


Stannis Baratheon: Wedding Planner

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Weddings, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been days since Davos had spoken with his king about anything else except for the children now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stannis Baratheon: Wedding Planner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHeart/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Seven Bind Their Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241512) by [RoseHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHeart/pseuds/RoseHeart). 



> Written as a birthday present for my dear friend, RoseHeart, this is loosely set within the universe she expertly created for 'The Seven Bind Their Fate' and is my first attempt at writing some fluffy crack. Please accept my apologies if any of this feels too weird.
> 
> All characters and places don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for some fun :)

It had been days since Davos had spoken with his king about anything else except for the children now. He thought absently as he'd ascended the creaking staircase to where Stannis Baratheon had claimed quarters along The Wall, that maybe that morning they could converse on prophecy or the wildling army or even the state of the food, but alas, he was mistaken yet again.

"The boy needs to be wed," Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, grumbled in greeting, barely lifting his head from the overburden map table. "The girls too. And the others. Renly's maid in mail and the she-bear and the wildling Princess." He moved a wolf shaped piece that had been side lined until Davos' entrance, though it appeared to be smaller and fluffier than it had been only hours earlier.

Davos cleared his throat, casting another glance over the table, noting the newer, softer tokens that the Queen must have spent an age putting together. The lion worried him, as did the presence of the man it represented, but not as much as the two deer. "Your Grace, that wildling Princess killed another guard last night. Lord Snow is..."

"A fool. The boy is a fool."

Somewhere above them a raven quorked and Davos could have sworn it was repeating 'snow' over and over again, though when he tried to listen the sound disappeared into the wind. The constant winter was a danger not to be underestimated, but he never thought he'd come to fear the whispers of the wind. "That boy is Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Your Grace."

"The Night's Watch," Stannis scoffed, closing his fingers around the neck of a white wolf and moving it down the map to stand alongside a cream coloured pony, the flaxen in its braided mane catching the light. "What have the Night's Watch ever done to help the King?" Davos did not answer, though he had to bite his tongue to do so. "I offer the boy a name, the seat of his father and instead he chooses an army of bastards, rapists and thieves. But if Lord Snow," he spat out the moniker like it burned his tongue, loosening his grip around the throat of the wolf who had refused him time and again. "Will not do his duty then the girls will. Though Lady Sansa is proving to be as stubborn as her brother on the subject. Why their father did not see to this matter years ago, I can't be certain but it will be remedied soon enough."

"Your Grace?" Davos asked, suddenly nervous over what was about to be proposed as Stannis started pairing off wolf and deer one by one, a grimace twitching at the corner of his mouth while he placed one ill-matched pair in the North and the other on the splodge of canvas and ink that signified Dragonstone. "I cannot speak for Lady Sansa, but from what I've seen, Lady Arya may be better suited to the life of a squire. She fights with Devan nearly every morning before the castle wakes, and she's been trained well enough to be a challenge for the lad."

Davos smiled despite himself. Arya was more wolf or wildling than noble lady and she would likely turn tail and run back to whichever hell the Kingslayer had found her in if the prospect of marriage was brought up again. _No_ , he considered, it would be much better if she was allowed to stay at The Wall, for now at least, under the protection of her brother. And gods knew Devan was in need of a distraction, what with The Red Woman getting ever closer to offering him a space beneath her cloak of flames. "Perhaps Lady Brienne or Lady Dacey would like...”

Stannis finally glanced up from the table, the wolf pups in his hand being replaced with a large black bear as his brow knuckled in concentration. The younger children may be more resigned to their fates, though Davos had his doubts there too, but he knew the Lannister men and the warrior maids, survivors of the massacre at The Twins, would not yield so willingly. No matter how many bears or lions or red Marbrand foxes Selyse made.

"It's said that friendship often lasts longer than what is perceived as love," the king replied, having clearly paid no mind to the sensible suggestions of his Hand. “And a knight without a wife is a knight without the chance to pass on his legacy. So be it,” the bear slipped from his grasp to land, somewhat playfully, at the feet of the fox. It was as good a match as any Stannis had so far advocated, Davos thought, as the mistake, or godly intervention, was picked up and set aside to be considered once plans were finalised for the Stark girls. Though if His Grace ever left the freezing gloom of his chambers to walk amongst the men, he would have seen how welcome that chance notion would have been, and not only with the intended bride and groom. “Once Lady Arya has flowered,” he continued, mindfully unaware of how Davos’ mind sometimes wandered. “She will marry your son and heir. Devan will have lands and a title of his own by that time, which will be the closest the younger Lady Stark will get to a knighthood. Until then, she will be taught alongside Princess Shireen and kept out of the yard.”

Davos nodded, knowing that it would be easier said than done to keep the girl out of trouble. And since there was a barely a man amongst the brothers who could read or write, their young Maester sent away to complete his training shortly after the Baratheon troops had arrived in the North, any lessons would be few and far between. But still, if or when the day came, as his king wanted, he would happily extend the hand of familial protection to the little wolf. Marya had always wanted a daughter, after all.

“Shireen’s betrothal should also be announced on the morrow,” Stannis admitted stoically and Davos’ heart dropped. He had grown fond of the little princess and her base born cousin, too fond to watch them fall foul to another attempt at matchmaking. “Though the wedding itself will not take place until the spring.”

“To who…whom, Your Grace, if I may be so bold to ask?”

“Rickon Stark,” came the curt answer, the joining of the first pup and fawn, and the reasons behind it, finally coming into focus. “Unless it is determined that the child has developed a taste for human flesh, of course.”

“Of course,” Davos echoed as if he had understood perfectly all along, his eyes being drawn back to the second deer. He tried to hide the smile that twitched again at his lips, by the time the spring came, gods permitting, Princess Shireen would be a woman grown and, if she was anything like her father, would not be so easily persuaded into doing anything she did not want to. "And what of Lady Sansa?"

"Ser Justin has asked for her hand." Davos was not surprised, the man was as enamoured with each and every pretty girl who crossed his path as the last true king had been, and Stannis had already denied him the wildling Princess. And although the king's man may have appeared to be a more amicable choice than the equally ambitious alternative, albeit one who would likely try and bed half of Winterfell before it was rebuilt, those who remained loyal to the North would not so easily accept a lowly Southron knight when the memory of the Stark men who had come before was still fresh. "Ser Richard, too."

Davos fought the urge to pass comment, the two men almost worse than unruly siblings who were constantly attempting to outdo their brother, following at the other's heels like malevolent shadows. He shuddered a little at that, the wind whistling and whispering beyond the thin pane of glass keeping them from the extremities. Out of habit, his hand rose to clutch at the bag of bones that used to be around his neck, remembering just in time to turn the twitch into a chance to rearrange his cloak, instead.

"There are other choices, Your Grace." _Better choices_ , he thought, choices that were only known to him due to snippets of conversations he had caught during his travels. "Because of Dornish law, the Martell boy doesn't stand to inherit, but, he is of noble birth and a similar age. It's well known that the Martells are no friends of the Lannisters." He left the rest unsaid, Stannis knowing the history behind the feud as well as he did. "The Tyrells may also be willing to treat if the Lady of Winterfell is involved."

Stannis stared at the menagerie laid out in front of him for a beat, weighing up his options before slowly removing a dove grey wolf from the fray. "See that the ravens are sent before you take breakfast. If there are no responses within a fortnight, I may," he paused, casting his gaze over the board a second time. "Have to legitimise Robert's boy.”

For any other man it would have been a joke, but Davos knew better than that. “Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”

“Yes. I will need new map markers, one for the Martell boy and another for the Tyrell.”

“I believe the Martells associate with snakes, Your Grace, though in this case maybe a sand steed would be more appropriate for the lad.” Stannis muttered something barely audible in response, acceptance coming along with the promise of having one made before the ravens would return. “And a hawk for Lord Tyrell.”

Stannis nodded. “We’ll discuss the others this evening. I still haven’t worked out what to do with Renly’s ridiculous blue knight or the Kingslayer.” The king gestured at the smirking lion who had been facing off against a large, blue eyed snow bear with a permanent frown the entire time they had been talking, one on each side of the map in their respective places of birth. They had occasionally been pushed together to unite east and west, though His Grace had never thought to keep them together for long. Ser Jaime was too reckless to be wed without much consideration, the heir of Tarth no prize herself having already broken off three engagements. But down in the yard, beyond chamber walls and noble duty, Davos had seen how the pair were almost inseparable and his mood brightened at the idea of Stannis finding another love match hiding amongst the predators and prey.

Realising they would be deliberating such matters long into the night, Davos having lost count of how many times he had persuaded Stannis to rest, although stubbornness had kept him talking of Jon and Val, Shireen and Rickon, Jaime and Brienne, until sleep forced him to quieten, the onion knight took his leave before another couple could be betrothed. Travelling down the staircase that would take him back into the mercy of the elements, Davos stopped briefly to listen to the unfamiliar sounds of merriment that carried and mixed with those coming from the King’s chamber above him, the voice of Addam Marbrand rising above the rest of the din.

“Ser Davos,” the red headed knight exclaimed as his presence was noticed in the yard, the man contently wrapped in a bear skin cloak, pink cheeked and grinning from ear to ear. Lady Dacey was softly smiling from her position on his arm, her own cloak a bitter orange colour more often seen around broader shoulders. The settled snow gave away the fact that they were coming from the godswood, Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne trailing in their footsteps alongside the Stark girls and what remained of the Lannister forces. “Join us for a drink.”

“Is there a reason why we are celebrating so early, Ser?”

“Only that Lady Dacey agreed to be my wife in the presence of the old gods as well as the new.” Ser Addam’s smile widened, though it was an almost impossible task judging by how happy he looked to have the young Mormont lady staring affectionately up at him. Behind them, Lady Brienne had turned the colour as poached prunes, the Kingslayer having slipped his arm around her waist, his mouth pressed immodestly to her ear.

Davos inwardly grimaced as he congratulated the pair, knowing that Stannis would not be happy that he hadn’t come up with the idea himself. And that he would, once again, have to be the bearer of bad news.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
